


Good Night

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 05:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13451580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Mòrag can't sleep.





	Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> something short and pointlessly fluffy for a certain someone!! you know who you are :V

Brighid is sound asleep. As carefully as she can, with the knowledge that her Blade can be a rather light sleeper, Mòrag pushes her head ever so slightly to adjust her position. A gentle nudge, hardly noticeable, it’s fine— oh, Brighid’s stirring. Mòrag yanks her hand back.

“Lady Mòrag…?”

“It’s nothing. Keep sleeping.” She hastily turns to put something aside, but it’s too late. 

“… Are you reading by the light of my flames again?” 

Right there. She’s caught red-handed, no point in trying to excuse herself. Rather sheepishly, Mòrag holds the book up for Brighid to squint at and drums her fingers against the cover.

“The Millenarian Titan. It’s _fascinating._ Would you like me to read an excerpt for you, Brighid?”

“Lady Mòrag, I’m trying to sleep.”

“ _Ahem—_ yes, of course. Don’t mind me, then.” 

“You shouldn’t be staying up so late.” 

“I know, I know. I’ve tried to put the book down, believe me, but surely you must understand how treacherous a captivating story can be to one’s self-control.”

Brighid sighs and sits up, rubbing sleep grit from her eyes. It looks like it’s going to be one of _those_ nights again if she doesn’t do something about it. Mòrag is rambling on about the book but Brighid’s only half-listening, running her hands over her face in tired thought and wondering why on Alrest her Driver could be so ridiculous at times. And cute. Ridiculously cute, perhaps. 

Mòrag’s rambling is cut off mid-sentence when the book is snatched away from her without warning. “Brighid—!” 

“Good night, Lady Mòrag.”

“One more chapter.” 

“Do you want me to burn this?”

“Would you dare?”

“Don’t test me.”

Mòrag squints at Brighid for a very, very long time. Then, finally, she looks away and slumps her shoulders in defeat, kicking the covers away and pulling her knees up to her chest. It really wasn’t much of a staring contest to begin with since Brighid’s eyes were closed, anyway. Architect, is that a pout? Brighid’s hardly able to hold back a laugh. 

“Too late. I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve finished that chapter.” Mòrag declares. She doesn’t move when Brighid pats her shoulder or when the book is placed on the nightstand at the opposite side of the bed, far out of Mòrag’s reach. 

“If you really can’t, get a glass of water.”

“I’m not particularly thirsty at the moment.”

Cute, but stubborn. Just like Mòrag, Brighid’s patience has its eventual limits. She pries Mòrag’s knees away from her chest and forcefully pushes her down to a lying position, pointedly ignoring her betrayed stare. 

“You’re unusually restless tonight.” Brighid settles down close to her side and drapes an arm across Mòrag’s chest, as if to keep her pinned down. Mòrag doesn’t struggle, but she does frown. The shadow beneath her brow is momentarily lit up by dim blue. “Is there something bothering you?”

“We all have our worries. It’s nothing worth dredging up at this hour.” So that’s a yes, then. 

“Tell me about it in the morning, in that case.”

“… Mmh.” 

Brighid can easily guess what Mòrag’s been thinking of. That… well, they can confront it together in the morning. She suddenly pushes herself up over Mòrag, arms effectively caging her on both sides, the glow of her hair casting down upon the two of them. Mòrag looks to Brighid with a wordless little frown and reaches up to touch her core crystal. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“There’s no need to apologize.” 

“It really was a good book.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Brighid?”

“Yes, Lady Mòrag?”

She seems to run out of words there, but Brighid gets the gist of it. She lowers herself to lie on top of Mòrag, gently kissing her neck without any of the sort of urgency or forcefulness she usually inflicts. Mòrag threads her fingers through her hair, staring up at the ceiling, still not quite focused but not distracted either. She’s just… thinking. Nothing else. 

Brighid is moving lower without being prompted, leaving more kisses along the way. Mòrag can’t find it in herself to protest when her shirt is pushed up. She lets her hands drift away from Brighid’s back and drop to her sides on the wrinkled sheets. 

The book. She can’t stop thinking about the book. Maybe that’s all there is to it. 

She sharply inhales at the sensation of something hot and wet upon her stomach. “ _Brighid._ ”

Of course Brighid’s licking her. Why not. 

“Stop thinking so much,” Brighid murmurs, nuzzling the shallow lines between the flat muscles. She takes one of her hands. Mòrag automatically squeezes and finally lets herself relax, sinking back against the pillow. 

“Are you alright, Lady Mòrag?”

“Why would I not be?”

“Hah, just checking.” Then Brighid lightly jabs a finger between her ribs.

“Hey—!” 

“Oh, so you’re still ticklish there.” 

“What happened to your original plan of going to sleep?” 

“I can’t sleep until you’re settled down.”

“Poking my ribs certainly won’t calm me.”

Brighid teases the spot just above her navel with her tongue. “You once told me that it’s good to let your hair down once in a while. I’m just having a bit of fun.”

“At my expense.” Mòrag raises an eyebrow.

“Just a little.”

She only chuckles and lets her head drop back down. “I don’t know why you’re so fascinated with that part of my body.”

“I’m fascinated with _every_ part of your body. This just happens to be one of my favorites,” she says, affectionately nuzzling her abdomen. She smiles when she feels Mòrag quietly laughing beneath her. It could either be out of disbelief or because Brighid is touching her ribs again. More likely the latter, maybe. 

“We’re never going to sleep, at this rate.” Maybe, maybe not. She can actually feel herself beginning to drift off as Brighid methodically plants gentle kisses across her midriff. Mòrag yawns. She tightly grasps Brighid’s hand when her fingers begin to slip loose. “I… mmh. Never mind. Do as you like.”

“Good night, Lady Mòrag.”

“Yes. Good night, Brighid.”


End file.
